Innholdsfortegnelse for January 2021 i Ladybug Stories, Poems, and Songs Magazine for Young Kids and Children

Kate has invited Max and Charlie to go camping . . . in her living room! They have real tents and sleeping bags. “I made a pretend fire,” says Kate with a laugh. She shows them a painted cardboard campfire.  “It looks great,” says Max. “But does that mean we are going to eat cardboard food?” “Are you ready to eat already?” Kate’s daddy laughs. “Let’s all sing some campfire songs first!” The doorbell rings. Kate’s mommy comes in with pizza. “I ordered barbecue flavor!” she says.  After pizza and more songs, Max and Charlie fall fast asleep. As Kate flops into her sleeping bag, she yawns and whispers, “Night night, campers!”…

I have two very special friends.Their fur is silver, so it blendswith all the snow that Winter sends. They ride the North Wind as it blowsfrom deep within the Land of Snows,to nip your fingers, ears, and nose. These friendly bears are very shyAnd blow the snow into the skySo they can play and hide nearby. They storm your fort. He hops your sled.She juggles snowballs overhead.They dance and prance while you’re in bed. On nights when you’re just lying there,And wind is howling everywhere,Don’t get upset and don't despair— It’s probably just a silver bear!…

My mother is a composer. She writes music. My father is a quilter. He sews quilts. My mother writes music with notes. Long notes and short notes. Slow notes and fast notes. My father sews quilts with cloth and thread. Long pieces and short pieces. Big pieces and little pieces. My mother writes music for different instruments. Blaring trumpets and booming drums. Whispering flutes and laughing clarinets. Rumbling tubas and clanging cymbals. My father sews quilts with different colors and shapes. Red squares and blue circles. Green triangles, purple stars, and yellow moons. My mother connects the notes with a steady, even beat. She taps her foot and nods her head as she writes. Up—down—up—down—up—down. My father connects the circles, squares, and triangles with steady, even stitches. He nods his…

Asher had rolled enough balls to make a snowman, but he couldn’t stack them. “Dad! It’s too heavy for me!” Asher called. Dad was pulling Becky on the sled. He came over, stamping and neighing like a pony. He dropped the sled rope and helped Asher wrestle the middle ball up into place. “Pony, pony!” Becky called to Dad. Dad said, “In a minute! Asher, where’s the head?” While they were busy, Becky climbed on the snowman. Before they could stop her, Becky and the snowman both tumbled over in a heap. “Becky!” Asher shouted. “I was working on that!” Dad patted Asher’s shoulder. “Shall we try to put it back together?” Asher scooped up an angry snowball. He threw it as hard as he could, smack against the side…